


The Contious Fuck-Ups of Grief

by PrinceMalachite



Category: Superjail!
Genre: Angst, Deviates From Canon, Gen, Humanoid!Ozzal, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, this fic is pure self indulgence don't mind me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceMalachite/pseuds/PrinceMalachite
Summary: The Royal Twins have become one Royal Prince Ozzal. In the wake of the death of his twin, the young overlord in the making can do little but wallow in despair. He may have been more enthusiastic about budding with triplet hatchlings, were they not bastards conceived from a grief stricken one night stand. He's not certain what he's going to do about this situation, but like most things as of late, it will likely end horribly.





	1. The Star Chamber

**Author's Note:**

> this fanfic is purely self indulgence for me and a friend and an excuse for writing practice. i've had this idea in my head for a few weeks and I finally have enough of a structure to write it out. will be updated as i feel like it.

It was a completely unnatural phenomenon for a multiple to be given a name. There was never the need for such; names were for those who required a sense of identity, but that was never something you lacked as a multiple. You were your siblings, as they were you, and you always knew that you belonged to each other. To separate that was to lessen that bond, to other yourself from your hatchling brothers.

Only were you ever given a name if you were among the extremely rare single births, or if, cosmos forbid, your siblings were to perish and leave you alive.

Under these circumstances, he was certain he would always despise the name 'Ozzal'.

The isolation of the chambers they'd once shared had been his only comfort in the time since. What started as hours became days, and he could only tell that time was passing by the cycling of their two cyan moons. It had always been gorgeous here; the most lavish room in the entire palace. With no windows, the entire room displayed the vast sea of stars from beyond their invisible atmosphere, with billions of them like flecks of paint upon a canvas in the endless dusk of space. The pale blue pillars stood against it like dividers, with their crystalline surfaces and the vague sparkles that could only be seen if you squinted.

Their round, extensive bed, lined with mountains of pillows and sheets crafted of silk, was entirely too big for one person. Either he lay in the middle, or on what had once been his twin's side of the mattress, and both only drove the spike of emptiness further into his chest. Instead, he took to perching on the edge of the pillar walls, legs dangling out to the winding descent along the tower to the palace courtyard.

He could recall sitting here with him when they'd been young, squishy hatchlings that could have easily fallen off the stoop and splattered into a pile of green at the bottom. Even now, meta-cycles later, the courtyard was still mesmerizing. The Royal Family was nothing if not narcissistic, and the courtyard was adorned with marble statues of he and his twin forever entwined in dance, followed along by past, deceased members of their family before them. The grand fountain in the center was of his father, pouring the sparkling water from the spout of a bowl that flooded down the waterways to the rest of the garden, everything in the same brilliant sheen of blue as their room.

He gazed upon it endlessly, but it was too permeated by the everlasting knowledge that his sibling would never share the sight with him again.

"Sire?"

The joints in his neck creaked as he turned his head over his shoulder. One of his many identical servants stood in the gaping corridor, hands held firmly at their side as they gave a deep bow, "Sire, your father has sent me to inform you that it has been ten lunar oscillations since you have withdrawn to your chambers."

'Ozzal' merely blinked in disinterest. Ever since his twin had passed, he had not opened his mouth even once. Initially, it had been out of fear that any words he attempted would give way to sobs that he could never have the hope of silencing. Now, with the time that had passed, it was simply because he could see no need to speak if there was not someone else to continue the sentence after him.

The servant stared back in awkward silence, before clearing their throat to continue, "Your father has made the request that you leave the palace for some time to clear your head. Isolating yourself among these unhappy memories does nothing for an upcoming overlord."

 _But what is the point of overlording_ , he wondered, _if no one else will be sharing the throne?_

The servant sighed dejectedly when he did not reply, "Please, sire, you cannot stay in your chambers forever. Your father is not an immortal being, and you will have to take his place one day; the people of Garlax are looking to you to provide them with a prosperous future."

He blinked back once more, gaze lingering briefly before looking back down to the courtyard.

Behind him, the servant huffed irritably, and he could hear the clicking of their boot heels against the marble floors as they marched his way. They threw their hands up to the perch, legs kicking frantically to push up beside the prince.

He felt a tug at his flowing robes, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see the servant once again, hands planting firmly on their hips.

"Sire, I beseech you to at least take one hour away from this room. Your father has said you may go anywhere in our star maps, for a maximum of seven lunar oscillations. Surely there is somewhere you wish to go to ease this pain."

'Ozzal' pondered this, thinking along the lines of every area of entertainment their sector had to offer. Childhood places of merriment were out of the question, and a planet with a quiet and serene environment would only give him more time alone with his thoughts, which he suspected was the last thing father wanted.

"Sire, I have been instructed not to leave this room until you agree to-"

Their words sharpened into a shrill yelp when 'Ozzal's' gargantuan hand, their full height from his wrist to his finger tips, took them into his grasp.

He swung his legs over the tower sill, planting his boots firmly to the floor, every bone crying out from disuse as he rose to his full, towering height.

"A-Alright, sire, we will leave at once! Wh-Where do you wish to go? I will hail you a transport ship- sire, please set me down!"

The prince ignored them, crossing toward the corridor with an ever blank expression. In matters of sadness such as these, there was really only one place to go: one with copious amounts of alcohol.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Nebula-157

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozzal and his servant travel to a bar in the cosmos to drown his grief in alcohol, much to his servant's chagrin.

The soft hum of the engine was the only sound he was tuning in as he sat in the lounging seats of the transport ship. The interior was chilled, and the commercials ships flew past the spanning windows from every which direction the closer they neared their destination. As hatchlings, he and his twin would attempt to count the colors of each as they passed, to the obviously poignant irritation of their chauffeur. Which, really, was only further incentive.

The only other sound, the one he was ignoring, was the same servant his father had ordered to his chambers. Ever since father had granted him permission to leave for Nebula-157, X-19 had not shut up for even one second, and the only escape was to pretend it wasn't happening.

"... and your father said you have to return home before the suns rise, not one second more. I know you intend on intoxication, but please only have one drink or two for the sake of your father's crystal account and your own reputation; you and your brother became absolute hoodlums under the influence- sire?"

X-19 was staring at him as though he'd honestly thought he cared.

"Sire, please listen to me when I'm addressing you!" He demanded, snapping his fingers in his face.

He raised a finger tip silently, expression unwavering as he shoved his hand back with what he considered to be gentleness, even though X-19 stumbled back at his touch.

He huffed, adjusting his circular glasses and smoothing down his little tunic, "You are behaving like a petulant hatchling, sire. You have already been through two buddings, and by next year, your ascension to the throne will imminent! You will not have the support of your brother, and that is all the more reason that-"

For the briefest moment, X-19 looked up and saw a crack in the stony fixture upon the prince's face, who turned away from him. To be separated from one's twin, even through non lethal means, was the most excruciating pain he could ever have experienced. Even for a moment, the emotional distress it induced was like having your heart ripped from your chest, and the there was a dull ache there even when you were reunited.

He would be experiencing that pain for the rest of his existence.

X-19 felt a pang of guilt resonate in his chest, sighing softly as he crawled to the seat beside his liege, "Forgive my words, sire..." he brought a hand to his cheek, barely the size of Ozzal's eye, "I cannot sympathize with how you must suffer. Are you in much pain, sire?"

Ozzal felt it may have been easier to show rather than tell; that would mean allowing the tremors that had wrecked him ever since his twin had breathed his last to consume him one again. The ones that made it feel as though his very nerves were constricting against each other and struggling to find air beneath his skin, the kind that assaulted one's organs and stole the breath from your lungs, and the type that made his bones rattle from the sheer, unbearable force. But this aching all over his body was enough to bear as it was, and he had felt it from wake to sleep ever since they had parted.

He merely nodded once, and gave no other reply.

X-19's lips drooped, releasing his hand from his cheek, "You have my never ending apologies, sir... no multikind should ever be forced to experience what has been done unto you."

No, they should not, yet here he was, in his infinite luck.

"This evening may numb you for a time, but you are aware it will return just as you are sober, do you not?"

Yes, he knew, and he could not bring himself to care even slightly.

X-19's hands moved to his shoulder, fingers slightly bunching the fabric of his top as he stared downward, "Just... please understand what I and your father ask of you, sire; you and your brother could always wind up in unsavory situations sober, but under the influence? The kind of trouble you ask for is more than you can handle right now. Don't you remember what happened the night of your last Hatching Day?"

He remembered, and he wasn't sure whether he was grateful or disgusted that his only memory of that night was a random stranger wearing his brother's shirt, which was five sizes too small and torn to shreds easily.

"Just... please don't do anything you'll regret later on, alright? At least do that knowing your father will have your head if you do."

He felt he was beyond feeling regret, or much of any feeling at all anymore, but a small nod was as flimsy of a promise as anything.

The service drone in the cockpit spoke, voice mechanical and void of emotion, "Nebula-157 approaching. Preparing to land."

Ozzal nudged X-19 away, rising to his feet and stepping toward the window to peer out. Nebula-157 was the largest bar in this sector, shaped like a large, winding purple tower surrounded by stray meteor debris and drifting crystals. Various transport vehicles sat on the roof, and the stairs that decorated the walls lead down to each area of the bar, until you reached the end of the stairway and drop into space if you weren't careful.

The ship lowered to the top, and Ozzal stepped out with X-19 at his heels. He turned to spare him an annoyed grimace, perhaps the first normal emotion he'd seen.

Nevertheless, he huffed in offense, hands on his hips, "Well, someone has to be here in case you're too drunk to hail a cab!"

Some tiny part of him was grateful for the servant; it was difficult not to be, the little fucker tried so hard. But that ultimately didn't matter, when he was going to be so shitfaced in five minutes he wouldn't even remember this conversation, or anything that took place before it, and anything that came after.

Which, ultimately, was probably for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my hc that if a member of a multikind group dies, the remaining siblings will be afflicted with chronic pain for the rest of their lives from the emotional distress it causes. sorry ozzal
> 
> next chapter's gonna be spicy so hold on to your butts (not that anyone reads this)


End file.
